


Of Two Minds

by PhantasmaDormi



Series: Mianite Awakening [2]
Category: Mianite Awakening, Mianite Awakening (Mianite Fan Series), Minecraft - Fandom
Genre: "her past", Gen, Headcanon, Memories, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Seeing as this was purely fan made, Taylor catching glimpses of her past, Well - Freeform, and pure speculation, headcanons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 02:35:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,357
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13354692
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhantasmaDormi/pseuds/PhantasmaDormi
Summary: Taylor glimpses what she deems to be memories from snippets of dreams. Each find a way to effect her. But the farther they go, the less she knows. It seems that knowing isn’t the true battle. Understanding is.





	Of Two Minds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blondetheftauto](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blondetheftauto/gifts).



_Blood pooled at her feet, dripping from the wood just above her head. Screams echoed from outside the small space she had been shoved in. It was horror outside, a blood thirsty howl breaching the walls separating her from a gruesome end. Footsteps were coming closer, coming towards her, she was trapped, she was trapped, she was—_

Taylor awoke in a cold sweat, a strange sensation of panic littering her mind. Though she struggled to remember the dream, it was already slipping. Fading. Just as the rest did.

Her eyes traced the lines of the bookshelves across from her bed. Ever since she left her old home, found herself settled deeper into the wilderness, they started happening more. They gave no warning, coming upon her sleep with a sudden stream. At times, she could almost feel what was happening, could almost tell what was going to happen. But each sequence passed, each sequence vanished by the time the sun rose. So she had settled to record what little she could.

With a shiver, she pushed the blankets from her body, absently brushing hair from her face. She lazily reached for the shelf to her right, where her shulker sat, holding her journals. Groaning unhappily as she had to actually get up to retrieve one, she shuffled inside it for her dream journal, the only journal that had so far remained private.

Taylor plopped back onto her bed, flipping open the book. For a moment, the quill she had grabbed was still in her hand, having no words to write. The dream was already escaping her thoughts, every details seeping out. Nonetheless, she scrambled to record all that she could remember.

Barely a few minutes later, she closed the journal, having nothing left to add. It was a usual occurence, her words petering out as she attempted to scrap her mind for more detail. At this point, she couldn’t be bothered by it.

But it was with the lingering thought of her dream that she went about her day. If her friends noticed any difference, they said nothing. Everyone was allowed an off day, after all. And if Taylor seemed strangely irked at the sight of blood, just barely hesitant at the prospect of getting into a fight, no one payed much mind. After all, everyone had their nightmares.

_The smell of smoke permeated the town like a suffocating blanket, the thickness clawing at her lungs. She could feel each piece of gravel along the path as it dug into her back. The terrain around her shifted, smaller houses turning into larger shops, turning into more complex buildings as she was drug further into the city by the length of her hair. The closer they got towards the center the more she fought, the louder the hideous cackling, growing from a distant sound, became. She didn’t want to go, she didn’t want to see what they had done, she didn’t want to die, she didn’t want to die, she didn’t-_

She breathed out a sigh, her lungs feeling tight. Just another entry in her dream journal. Another page to wonder about, to try to push out of her mind. It was just a dream. At this point, what was there to relate it to? It’s not like she would remember it come tomorrow.

Just as she had many times before, she recorded what lingered in her head. In this early morning, she wasn’t willing to linger on it. The one just a few days ago hadn’t stuck long, and neither would this one. It’s not like it meant anything.

Taylor went about her day, trying to get more comfortable with Botan’s presence. She was ecstatic to have him here, to have someone willing to listen to her, to talk with her. To see her without the crushing judgement of knowing, believing that the gods outcasted her. With Botan, he didn’t care. For he was, in all intents and purposes, outcasted by the gods. Except, he never was with them.

It was refreshing. The faint sense of freedom her tree gave her, the distance from her friends gave her. Maybe they were worried for her, but she couldn’t feel better. For once, in the past however much time, she felt like she… fit in somewhere. That here, among the bounties of nature, the quiet, occasional solitude of her looming tree, she was home.

And if she stuck around her house more that day than she had before, it was because of the hominess of it. If she was hesitant to venture past the village between her and Weed Fort, it was because she was worried about Botan following her through it. If anyone thought anything of it, Botan following just behind her was enough to get them to stop thinking about it. For them, he was a much bigger problem.

_Her nails were bloody and her head hurt. Strings of hair were left in her wake, uprooted and left to die. Buildings upon buildings flew past her, but the footsteps behind her didn’t cease. If she didn’t hurry, she wouldn’t have to worry about her hair. Each breath came out with a sharpness to it, and her legs begged to let go. But she had to run. She had to keep going, had to keep-_

Her legs felt cramped as she awoke that morning, stiff and irritable. She could only groan as she flopped around on her bed, eyes skimming across the stone brick walls on either side of her. Despite the convenience of her bedside table, or rather bedside chest, it felt like a tremendous distance to retrieve the dream journal.

Another page, another entry. For a moment, just after she finished writing… whatever, she loathed the thought of getting up. But if she wanted the cramps gone, so dangerously close to being a charlie horse, she’d have to stretch her legs.

If the journey up her stairs alone hadn’t released the tension in her muscles, nothing would. But once she made it to her front room, Botan was there, chilling in the library of sorts. He looked up at her arrival, a small smile of sorts gracing his lips, his way of saying good morning. It disappeared in an instant, but he knew she saw it. The look was a private gesture, and he wasn’t one for sharing pleasantries.

A frown, however, settled into his face as he noticed her slight limp. His concern for her was rather new, and she wasn’t sure whether she should say anything should he ask, or just give him the ‘I’m fine’ treatment.

The choice was made for her, however, when he asked, “Your leg appears to be hurt. A rough night I suppose. Would you like me to heal it?”

She is taken aback for a moment, not quite expecting the causal offer, before shrugging.

Before she can say much, he walks over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. A strange wave of static, definitely some form of magic, washes out from the touch, soothing the ache. When he was done, he removed his hand, stepping out of her space. She stretched her legs with satisfaction, a grin creeping onto her face.

“Thanks hun!” Taylor smiled cheerily at him. Acting fast, so as to not make things awkward, she gave him a hug, before moving into her chest room. Though she felt much better, Botan’s magic didn’t chase the thought of being hunted from her mind.

Even as she went around that day, mostly happily talking with her friends, she was slow to turn her back on them. For a moment, when she was talking with- Dallas? Omelette? Sky? Andor?- someone, they jokingly lunged at her, and she panicked. But if they saw the flash of fear, they spared her dignity and said nothing. Tensions were high now that she was publically with the shadows. Maybe she was scared they would turn on her.

(She was)

_Something was wrong. She couldn’t hear anything. There was weight on her, crushing her. A sickly wetness was forming beneath her, but she couldn’t move to get out of it. She opened her eyes, not knowing when she closed them, to see… nothing. Just blackness. What happened? She was stuck. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t move-_

Her eyes flung open, but nothing else moved. She lay there in bed, struggling to breathe, to shift around, to get up, anything. A silent terror crept along her skin, played within her mind. For a moment, all she could do was stare at the looming brick wall beside her, fighting to stay calm.

After an eternity, her arms responded with a twitch, her chest fully expanding as she gulped in air. With one last deep breath, she pushed herself up. Ignoring the tremble in her hands, she reached for the chest, knowing that it would still be best to write in her dream journal. It was the only potential positive to the experience, the chance of it adding to her lost memories.

So far it hadn’t.

But nonetheless she dutifully recorded the sketchy details she had. It wasn’t long before the urge to move became incessant. The ghost of the oppression, of being crushed lingered. Her body screamed to be free of something far gone, and the best she could do was convince it she was fine.

Taylor ran about her morning routine with a sense of hurry. For once the homey walls of inside her tree were almost suffocating, and it would be best to soak in some sun. She moved outside, walking through her animals as she fed them, trying to focus on the free air around her. Though the grass was comforting, the open air easing the strain on her lungs, she still felt trapped.

Maybe she was.

But she couldn’t spare the time to think too hard on that. Her legs ached with unspent energy, small jitters working through her body if she stood still too long. So, after finishing off her morning duties, she set off towards the center of life in their small community.

That day she raided the journals of her friends with gusto, more than happy to catch up on their personal lives, though they may not share the same enthusiasm. But she couldn’t stay for long, flitting between people, starting with Sky and Ome, to Cyp, to Py, to Dallas, to Andor even. Only Andor gave any suspicion towards her need to move, but he was blown off due to his usual bouts of paranoia. Ironic, since he was the closest to the truth.

It didn’t matter. Even if her friends knew, even if she found the words to communicate what lay as a burden on her, what could they do? Nightmares were practically the norm, and many of the locals knew that they couldn’t easily be shaken. If they could seldom help themselves, would they really be in the best place to help someone else? 

_Her back was scraping against the ground again. She opened her mouth to scream, but a measly wheeze came out. She tried to thrash, but her arms were weak. Whoever was dragging her patted her head gently, perhaps trying to calm her. She couldn’t tell. She couldn’t hear. But she was going away from the city, away from the fights, from the blood, from…_

Taylor woke from the dream with an almost unsettling calm. There wasn’t anything bugging her, just… a sense of absence. Like she was going to leave and never come back. Like she left something behind. Something important.

So she documented it, and the difference it left, and went about her morning. Botan was there, as he was more and more often these days, but they hardly exchanged words. Though he gave her a once over, a slight hint that he knew something was wrong, he said nothing. Perhaps he knew, perhaps he understood. He seemed to know much more than she would ever know.

That day she was given remarks of a difference. As she went about with her friends, they were slowly coming to realize her uncharacteristic silence. Of course, she waved them off. She was just thinking, just spaced out, just a bit tired. It wasn’t any real problem, right?

But the sense of loss had settled in her chest, and the grey tint to her flowers gave her away. What could be done about this? There was nothing to find, nothing to appease the need to fill the strange emptiness growing inside her. It was nothing. So she followed her friends with a muted presence. Watching, talking, but not there. Not really.

_It had been months since she heard a sound. Her newest caretaker, some man who preached of balance and peace, took it upon himself to teach her sign, having already know the craft himself. It was strange, forcing herself to read lips. Everyone around her felt so distant, disconnected. And most couldn’t communicate with her. Life flowed around her, yet she remained stagnant, dislodged from reality. It was like she was floating, pulling farther and farther away from the people around her…_

With a sigh, she opened her eyes. It was happening again, the sense of loss. But… as though she was losing something now. The empty space where Botan had been the night before didn’t help. He always seemed to disappear before she woke. She doubted he’d be around soon.

Taylor moved through her morning sluggishly, not paying any particular attention to what was happening. Sky came over, Ome likely not too far behind, somewhat bored and mostly… concerned about her.

“Your flowers are white,” he commented idly, a critical look in his eyes, despite the bags under them seeming to have grown, “I haven’t seen them like that before. It gives you a ghostly look.”

She shrugged, trying to pull off a smile.

“It’s not Halloween quite yet, but I’ll be sure to remember that,” Taylor replied jokingly, missing any real weight to her voice.

Their conversation was light, but felt strained. She just couldn’t get the right words out, couldn’t connect thoughts together. Surely Sky noticed, but she felt he was giving her the space to work it out. Maybe he was too tired to try to help. Too tired of helping her.

Omelette arrived later, happily skipping in despite his more recent spreading blackness, having embraced the void like skin he adapted. He noticed almost immediately, the sudden sharpness in his eyes relaying the fact, but he didn’t press for answers. Instead he did what he did best.

“Hey Tay, we should make a cake together!” He chirped happily, linking an arm with her, “Oh, or a pie! Pumpkin pies are popular this time of year right? At least, from what I’ve read about Thanksgiving and fall tradition.”

Taylor shrugged, a softer, more genuine smile finding its way to her face, “Yeah, but the pumpkin gets old after a while. What if we made apple, or- ooo! What if we made a chocolate pie! I’m sure we can figure it out.”

This led to a culinary disaster, at least on Taylor and Sky’s (who was unwittingly, but unresisting) part. The kitchen was a mess of batter and attempts at the perfect chocolate, from when Taylor indignantly threw some of their sample at Omelette, who didn’t duck in time. A food fight led to wasted batter, Sky proving his fighting skills once more, and the two humans being banned from the kitchen until Ome was done with the pie.

But Taylor couldn’t wipe the smile off her face. For once her dream was placated, the infectious joy of the loving couple rubbing off on her. Something still felt distant, but maybe it was her. Maybe she was causing it.

Well after the pie was done, barely allowed to cool off before being pillaged, the duo had to leave. It was going on late and though they could fly neither wished to deal with pesky mobs. She was sad to see them go, the healthy yellow that her flowers took up dulling only slightly.

Before he followed his lover outside, Sky asked one question, “What does it mean when your flowers are white, Tay?”

She stared at him a moment, before answering, “It means that I feel lonely. Isolated.”

He nods, a considering look on his tired face, and leaves. The white doesn’t come back that night. But the feeling of disconnect returns. Maybe it is her.

_“Never let anyone destroy the balance of this world, child.” These were the first words she heard after 1 year, 2 months, and 11 days. She kept track of every day that passed, did her best to imagine the sounds that would be taking place, that should be taking place. And though she would most love to remember the exact date, her mind was much more focused on the newest sounds she could experience. Her guardian’s voice. The rustling of leaves. The whisper of wind. A real beat from her heart. It was bliss. Yet… words seemed to taint the experience. “The Gods must be kept under control. The balance of the world is the most important entity, Lady Ianite is the most important God. Remember this child. Remember this when the world is tearing, when the universe is starting to dissolve. If it is to benefit Ianite, it is to benefit the world. Even the greatest of evils.”_

Taylor breathed out long and hard. Go figure that she would dream of Ianite. Of the Goddess that she had… yeah. That book had shaken her… it had some effect. And with the knowledge that it had imparted upon her. It hung over her like a mist, both helping her see things in a new light, yet blocking her view of other things.

But it would do no good to dwell on it here. It was best to record and mull about it later. When she had time. Where she knew she had peace. Yet her quill stalled on the paper, even as she rushed to get the details in. Gritting her teeth, she forced her hand to keep moving. Now wasn’t the time.

As she went about her morning duties, doing her best not to notice the absence of Botan, she kept having to clear her thoughts. It was frustrating, and her dogs seemed to sense it. They were gently, yet distant, responding to her faint affections, but only giving light nuzzles and licks in return.

What could she say, if her friends would notice? Would they notice? At the very least, they might suspect she is dwelling on the book. Most of them were aware of its contents. The few who didn’t would surely know by the end of the day.

But it didn’t matter. What mattered was not letting this get to her. Not letting who she was get to her. She is who she is now, but why did it feel like something changed? Why did it feel like knowing more about the past was making who she was feel… so fake?

She groaned. No, that was not it. No. Who she was now was real, the experiences that made her who she is was real. Her feelings and emotions and life were all very real.

Taylor sighed, pushing the debate from her mind. What good would it do to question things she only had questions about? It wouldn’t do anything. Instead, maybe she could look to Ianite for answers, though she had mostly proved more cryptic than anything. That was supposed to be Honor’s role.

Before she could go too deep into that, Sky showed up. Or rather, was awkwardly standing at her door, about to knock when she came back from feeding her outdoor animals. Tired eyes turned to her at the sound of her footsteps.

“Hey Taylor. You are confused about something, it would seem.” Sky greeted her, a small yet reassuring smile on his face.

Her eyebrows rose, before she replied, “Well good morning hun, what makes you say that?”

He gestured to her in a vague motion. Her eyes trailed down her body, before landing on the purple petals lining her arm.

“Oh!” She hadn’t noticed the change in color. “It looks like you are getting the hang of my flower colors.”

“Well, I have known you for a while now, it would be a tad sad if I couldn’t figure out at least some of them. Though I will admit that a few of the less common ones are harder to know.” Sky turns back to the door with a shrug after delivering the statement so plainly.

A smile found its way to her face. It was a nice gesture on his part, even if he didn’t realize it. Despite knowing many of these people for so long, there were only a few who could accurately tell what her colors meant most of the time.

The duo made their way inside, at her insistence, to escape the early morning chill. It helped to have him here, to be more focused on him than… that. Strange, how him and Omelette seemed to ease the burden of her dreams, how they seemed to find a way to her when they happened. She wondered if it was pure chance, or some divine force trying to help her out. Perhaps it was the good will of one ghostly Goddess.

Botan showed up just past noon, giving only a look of displeasure at Sky’s presence. Beyond that, the three seemed to have a nice day, despite the regular, yet light quarreling between the other two. If she closed her eyes for a moment, she imagined it would feel like the smallest of family gatherings, filled with people only related by blood, separated by their interests and beliefs. It was a funny thought, but a comforting one.

Oh the irony, of finding the best comfort from two people who hated each other.

_He was dying. It was horrific, so terribly similar to that time. And he wasn’t going to get better. It had been years since then, since they destroyed her home, yet they still haunted her, still found a way into her life. This time, they found him. And they took their revenge. But he would remain eternal in her thoughts, in her memories. His last words were ingrained in her mind. “Don’t trust the Gods of this realm, child. They cause chaos, destruction, imbalance, impurity. Would such a group of people as these exist if not for the guidance of Dianite? Would there not be any order to corrupt into tyranny if not for the guidance of Mianite? Don’t trust them, my dear child, only trust in the balance of the world, and it’s protector. The Gods are not your friends. They are not on your side. Do not trust the Gods, do not trust the Gods, do not trust-_

She gasped awake, a terrible pain radiating from her every being. He had died. Both then and before. Taylor had forgotten him. And she was going to again.

Sucking in greedy breathes, she tried to calm herself. While something inside screamed out for him, for his vengeance, something else, something much quieter, questioned his words. It was something far newer, a feeling that was born when she first woke up in this land. Something entirely her.

This felt important. Of all her dreams, this struck her as something more. Something, something, something. She scrambled for her journal, the pages slightly worn from many dreams past, the book nearing it’s end. It felt crucial to not forget this. To understand what this, above all other dreams, meant for her.

Was this the reason she killed Folia? Was this the reason she grew to be Ianite’s champion? Or was she already champion then? Had this man been an acolyte of the Goddess, or a much more devout follower? A cultist? She had no way to know.

For the first time in many dreams, a war inside had reawakened. Was her act against the Gods good or bad? Was her taking of Folia’s life for the better or worse of the world? So much of her moral standings now told her no, it was horrible, think of all the people that suffered from her death, think of Cypress.

But an older, forgotten part told her it had been necessary. That the balance of the world was the most important thing. That Ianite, the patron of judgement, the protector of peace, the wielder of the scales of balance was the only one she could trust.

Yet. How many times had she seen otherwise? What had truly happened to her more recent followers? To Sharhar and Mazer. She had read the books. There was enough in there to wonder, to question Ianite’s integrity.

Had the old her been wrapped up in the delusion that the key to balance was to remove the factors that disturbed it? That simple balancing sides and compromising certain powers wasn’t effective? That only the extreme could succeed?

Whatever the case was now, she couldn’t agree. What would that mean about her friends, those who followed gods. What would that mean for those who didn’t, those who proved to deviate from the norm? What would this mean for Botan, who, despite all his strength and skill, was seemingly disappearing, losing the form he had carried for so long.

What did this mean about Death? How did he play into this? Was he with Ianite? Or biding his time, playing out his amusement of the Goddess who danced beneath him, before coming to snuff her out?

There was so much to think about here, so many questions. But she couldn’t answer them. She doubted anyone could. In this life she lived, the gods had done both so much and so little for her. They seemed crucial, important, but lead to disappointment in the long run, to nothing. What was the truth? Who was the real enemy? The Shadows? Ianite? The other Gods?

She knew one thing for certain.

She was running out of people to trust.


End file.
